


This Place That We Called Home

by slightlyjillian



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Distopia, F/M, Gender Issues, M/M, Unrequited Love, complicated friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-22
Updated: 2010-04-22
Packaged: 2017-10-09 02:31:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/82011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slightlyjillian/pseuds/slightlyjillian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Navigating the world safely required diligence, caution and a careful aversion to love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Place That We Called Home

**Author's Note:**

> An experiment to explore some gender-role flip-flop for this AU distopia. And the baseline bright-spot of friendship.

"The way I see it, you've got a couple of options," Jacob Walker grumbled. He bent low over his beer bottle while running his fingers along the peeling label. "So why you're all upset over her saying _no_ is pretty short-sighted. What about Hilde now? There's a good girl. She always smiles when she sees you."

He looked across the table at the plastic button stuck in the opposite, empty seat of the booth.

Swallowing his sigh, Walker pinched his nose. "You could have at least told me you weren't coming. You're as bad as the women, Nikky."

***

Nikolai Demidov woke up long before his alarm. His stomach twisted as if still digesting a memory from a rather unpleasant dream. He splashed water on his face, avoided looking in the mirror and hurried back to his room to turn off the settings on his clock so they wouldn't wake up Walker.

His fingers lingered on the button. Oh.

So the recollection that made him feel like vomiting was a missed evening at the bar. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eye sockets and willed himself back into yesterday. Unsuccessful, Nichol scratched at the stubble on his chin.

"Ignore or apologize?" he asked a rather crispy houseplant.

"I forgive you." Walker pushed open the door to his room. He raised a hand before Nichol could form words. "I don't have many friends after last night, so whatever it takes to keep _one_."

"That bad?" Nichol squinted in sympathy. Walker had been rather optimistic about his relationship with the local governess which was as close as any man could get to the Queen without losing function of his gentlemanly parts.

"I don't know why they insist on these customs. Requiring _us to ask them_ as if they aren't going to..." Walker stopped speaking and turned around to go back into his room. Nichol waited for a moment to see if his friend would return or if the embarrassment had slipped into depression.

The real answer, in Nichol's opinion, was that Walker had simply aimed too high. A governess could set up house with any drone she wanted. And while Walker was an upright guy with the knack for making a gal smile, bottom line was that the guy had no merits. No merits meant no unlicensed co-gendered housing. No procreating. Most of all, no _marriage_.

Nichol understood. He was no merit too. In polite company, one just simply didn't bring it up.

Nichol wasn't polite. "Jacob Stan Walker, you bitch." Nichol couldn't help smiling. He _loved_ using that word, even if it was on the short list of rather naughty expressions that guaranteed getting slapped.

The snort meant that Walker wasn't completely done in at least. Nichol sat on the bed and chewed his fingernail. His companion lay across the bed, ankles crossed and hands behind his head. Walker stared at the ceiling.

"Want relief?" Nichol asked cautiously. They had a sort of agreement, but Walker didn't like to take up the offer until he was short on official options with the blue-collar women. They could partner with a no merit in cases of excommunication which half of them were even if it wasn't on paper.

Walker shook his head. "Just feeling like an idiot because I thought the governess actually liked me."

"Come on, you _knew_ Une was fond of you. Only fond," Nichol retorted, flushing somewhat. His offer wasn't absolutely rejected, but it did leave him feeling rather vulnerable. He hurried to talk about something else. "She'd been in the tabloids with that professor just last week. He's got the merits." He blew out a long breath. "Still, I bet she let you down all sweet like because she _does_ like you. So there's that..."

Walker sat up and grabbed Nichol's shoulder. "You're right. Why... why couldn't you have remembered last night? If you had... no," he added hastily. "Don't feel bad. You just have this way of..." Walker stood up and went to his closet to find a new shirt.

"Way of what?" Nichol fished for a compliment. "Don't say _disappearing_."

"Shaking me out of the no merit." Walker's smile lit up his whole face and Nichol really wished that the other man would have been more open to accepting the ever present alternative.

"Yeah, no problem," Nichol managed to match the happy tone, but the knot in his stomach had returned.

He didn't deserve Walker. No more than Walker could be anything official with the governess.

***

Nichol's excuses never seemed to spark any suspicion. So he put on his cap and coat to trudge out into the snow and wet. Around the corner a car waited. Nichol opened the back door and sank into the luxurious seat. He automatically reached for the small cabinet with the familiar tasting, expensive liquor.

"You do know that the professor has to pay for everything that you take," reminded the chauffeur. Catherine was blue-collar but enjoyed a sort of respectability given her ties to her employer. A strange shift in dynamics given the gender swap, but Nichol had never met a platonic relationship that seemed more secure without a contract. He knew Catherine was sound because she had promised to kill him if he broke the professor's heart.

The car left the city and after a few quiet miles on the long road turned into a private drive. Even so, Nichol didn't attempt to leave the vehicle until Catherine had securely moved it into the garage.

"Tell him to ease off a little," Catherine commented as she held the door open for her passenger. "I know he thinks he's clever and such, but someone's going to do the math eventually."

"I can count," Nichol grumbled. She didn't reprimand his attitude which made Catherine a rather remarkable woman in Nichol's book.

She shook her head. "Yeah, so can he, but that doesn't mean he will."

Catherine left and Nichol casually walked the perimeter of the building. Most days his visits didn't even leave the garage. It felt safer. The tabloids couldn't go into structures. And those without windows were safer yet.

"You've been drinking."

Nichol pivoted to the sound of the professor. Trowa Barton had been watching. He shifted his weight to look as if he'd been there for some time, but Nichol could see the restless twitch of the other man's fingers. Even in the shadows of the garage, Nichol could see the strain shaping lines along Trowa's eyes. High profile men with merit were always being watched. Those who kept secrets, well they had more things to hide.

"I might have had one to drink, but I'm not considering that _payment_."

"If you'd let me pay you this would be easier to explain," Trowa mentioned.

"Shut up." Nichol stomped the distance between them. He started with an inquisitive kiss trusting what he felt from Trowa's lips rather than what he said. _I love you._ "You too," Nichol whispered, watching the green eyes drift to the side.

"I heard about Jacob's proposal," Trowa glanced back briefly.

"He went on a bar crawl _without me_ last night," Nichol said, pointedly. "He didn't ask where I was."

"Catherine covers my tracks." Trowa undid the buttons on his shirt. "I had a fever when Une asked after me last night."

"Is that so?" Nichol watched with interest. "I had a fever too."

***

"Hilde's your new prospect?" Nichol set down the newspaper and watched as Walker spooned up the last of his cereal milk in quick strokes.

"I should have pursued her all the while," Walker shrugged. "She might understand. It's not as if one of us could really refuse an audience with Une."

"Oh, of course not." Nichol folded the paper keeping to the original bends and creases. "If you could have only been less interesting, the governess might have overlooked you."

"Hey." Walker smiled boyishly and very pleased. "It's not merits, but it's something to show for myself."

Nichol leaned back and said, "You're the most worthy no merit anyone could meet, you know that right?" He forced Walker to see the seriousness in his gaze. Walker's expression faltered but a rosy blush covered his cheeks. Nichol added, "So Hilde's obviously the sort of blue-collar I'd want to notice you."

Walker's arms dropped to brace against the back of his chair. He leaned forward. "If she were interested, I'd speak for you. It's not completely unheard of for a third partner..."

"Dont," Nichol laughed. "Don't waste your chances on that sort of condition."

***

That evening the car wasn't waiting, so Nichol kept walking. As he took the final corner to complete the block he stopped short at the sight of the escort motorcycles. Guards lined the walk from the street to the front door of the place he shared with Walker. They'd hoisted the flag for the city, the one that only appeared when the principle woman was present.

Either the governess had come to see her favorite no merit or...

Nichol couldn't turn around. They'd already seen him. It was forward or nothing. Nothing was worse than whatever was ahead. Even if they killed him, Nichol preferred choosing death over nothing.

The guards did not interfere when Nichol took the claustrophobic pathway toward his home. The last guard opened the door. Her expression never changed. Nichol still had no idea what he was walking into. He wished he'd done something more interesting with his appearance, but that might have been an indication on where he thought he might go. What he might do. And with whom.

"It's not all about relief." A woman's voice.

When he turned into the main room, Nichol kept his eyes away from Trowa Barton and made an appropriate movement of submission toward the Lady Une.

"Please don't," Trowa spoke to Une as if he were a domesticated pet. His protest seemed to be connected to the conversation Nichol had walked in on. A man of merit wasn't supposed to endure crude conversation, but Walker had let slip that the Lady Une had a rather peculiar sense of humor. She liked to be cruel and tease those people for whom she held affection.

But those who crossed her experienced a very different cruelty...

"Who is this?" Lady Une's smile utterly devoured Nichol's confidence.

Given a sign to answer, Nichol said, "Nikolai Demidov."

"And this is your home?"

"Yes."

"Your hospitality is appreciated, Mr. Demidov." Her responses were quick and exact like an experienced surgeon. Nichol could feel every snip of her verbal tools and the swelling of the underlying bruise.

She changed her posture to lean away from Trowa who sat without acknowledging Nichol at all. The governess put her chin into her hand. She said, "You don't live here alone, do you?"

Not many people questioned peer housing, although some relationships appeared more sketchy than others the no merits were mostly left alone. The typically unmentioned practices of relief were, likewise, typically ignored practices of peer relief.

Nichol chose the most cautious answer he could, "I share the space."

"Jacob Walker. And he's not here," Une pointed out the obvious.

Nichol repeated a grocery list of commands to himself. _Do not react. Do not get angry. Do not look at Trowa._

"Jacob is a very sweet boy," Une said. "Perhaps you know that I've kept company with him now and again."

The pause lasted long enough Nichol began to think she actually expected him to respond.

Une reached out and curled her fingers around Trowa's hand. "It's not typical for a darling lad like Jacob to be a no merit. He reminded me of Trowa here, a proper drone."

_Drone?_ Nichol flinched before he could regain calm in his former repetition. Perhaps Nichol had not been caught. Perhaps she meant to give Walker a promotion? It was possible if she'd rejected his proposal the night before she could have arranged to give him an alternative. A gift, and a rare one.

"Do you know when Jacob will return?"

Nichol shook his head making the smallest sound he could to qualify as an answer. Even if her visit was a friendly one, the slightest misstep and any one of the trained guards could kill him. Slow. Fast. In pieces.

"Then perhaps you should make yourself comfortable, Mr. Demidov. I will not leave until Jacob answers for what he has done." Even the slightest trace of goodwill left Une with those words. Nichol risked a direct look at Trowa who had dark rings under his uncannily green eyes.

Catherine's excuse had failed. And if so, then so did Trowa's alibi for his missing evenings. And Walker, also of the governess' company, had disappeared at the same time. A dangerous coincidence.

He nearly laughed. She was absolutely right. Her drone had been sullied before she'd ever had him. And she was absolutely wrong about the culprit even as they sat in the same room together.

Nichol had been a fool to think he could have escaped. The last chance was to implicate...

The last chance was to implicate the one person Nichol loved.

***

For a woman, Une had a terrifying gift of silence. Trowa wilted from the damage of her presence and Nichol endured the same pressure. The simple movement of his arms or legs made his clothing rustle with the seeming sound of trumpeting elephants. Only one guard stood by the door, but she had a never ceasing, ruthless grin. Where had Une found her personal entourage? Nichol doubted that he'd get far if he dared to escape.

Would they even let Walker into the house?

Walker who was enjoying the company of Hilde and engaging the most innocent negotiations of a proper relationship.

Nichol swallowed another manic burst of laughter. His fingers moved a few millimeters to gradually wipe away the slick of nervous sweat. How did Trowa learn to manage this woman's terrifying temper? But Trowa seemed to have gone somewhere else in his mind.

He looked away when Une caught him watching. Then Nichol knew what he had to do.

"It was me." His voice choked and sputtered then stalled.

"It was you?" Une honestly seemed taken back. The repeated words meant nothing to her yet.

Nichol took notice that the guard stayed by the exit. He had no hope of escape anyway. "Not Jacob, the no merit... the man you're looking for is me."

"You?" Une sounded incredulous.

Suddenly Trowa half-lifted from his seat. "No, it wasn't this person."

"Of course it was me." Nichol gripped the arm rests in an attempt to hold himself down. He had no where to go. "Walker will have evidence he was in public for the entire time of your suspicion." Then he added, "Ma'am."

"He's lying," Trowa petitioned trying to gain Une's full attention. "To protect his friend."

"It's true, I would protect him. But not with a lie." Nichol scowled at Trowa. He wanted Trowa to be safe, to have time to change, for an opportunity to become... but none of that was ever truly possible.

Walker and Hilde. They might be possible.

"Interesting." Une examined a pair of round glasses she'd taken out from somewhere. The guard took a few steps forward as Une stood.

Trowa did stand then, "He's no merit. If someone takes a consequence for my behavior it should be considered that I had a greater rank..." his eyes suddenly flashed with a passionate anger that Nichol knew better than the catatonic mood from just before.

Une dismissed his comment with a small tossing movement of her fingers. "His confession is noble. Yours? Pointless." Her glasses reflected the light making Trowa wince. "Drones gain or lose favor, but your merits are priceless. Act like a man with merit."

Trowa took a step but the guard checked him.

"Move again, and I'll kill this one here and now." The uniformed woman pointed the end of her rapier toward Nichol's neck.

"Trowa." Une savored the name on her tongue. "You can't fight those feelings can you? What any other number of men would pray for... you disown so easily. Fates have a humor."

"I love him."

Une's patience left with a scowl. "That's all you have, but what will you do with it?"

Nichol wanted to appreciate Trowa's actions, but mostly he worried that Walker would return too soon. That Jacob would get tangled into the categorically criminal activity that simmered and thickened in that room.

"I'm the one to acknowledge responsibility," Nichol said quickly into the brief pause.

"At last, a reasonable observation." Une motioned to her guard. "Take him to the cells."

The sword was put away. Nichol found his arms pulled behind as the guard knocked against him, causing Nichol to lose his footing before he could balance upright properly.

"As for you, Mr. Barton, we'll want to expedite your marriage contract. I'd hate to retire you early, but with this sort of delinquency to the system we'll be decades renurturing your lineage."

Nichol didn't hear the rest, because he'd been steered out and away from his home. The woman behind him checked his pace whenever he slowed down. Next, he was bent over the rear car while they opened the door to put him inside.

He imagined Walker coming home. The house would be restored to the condition it was in prior to the governess' arrival. Nichol would be gone. No tabloids would comment and Walker would never be given an answer. Une might comfort her Jacob with some abstract details, but she'd not knowingly damage an innocent citizen, merits or no.

A dark cloth was put over his eyes.

The house had room for Hilde. If Jacob stayed the path, he might earn enough goodwill to adopt.

Pressing Nichol inside the vehicle, the guard sat next to him. The engine turned and the world Nichol knew was left behind.

A boy. The adoptions were always boys.

They might name the child Nikolai.


End file.
